Spring and new beginnings

Surrounded by new beginnings both in the garden and out, I find myself pondering life's miracles both big and small--births, transitions, new beginnings, the rites of passage that are part of living.

Saturated with reminders of new life and renewal, the season of spring is hopeful. Even after the harshest winter, new life does come and days do become brighter.

Just like the oxalis that I allow to grow and bloom in waves of buttercups so the drabness of winter doesn't completely envelope my garden views, the "weeds" of life can often bring beauty if viewed differently.

Sometimes it seems like life's winters are too harsh for there to be any hope of a brighter future. But right under the surface of the trial, like daffodil bulbs nestled deep in the dark soil, blessings are waiting to come.

Daffodil bulbs need the stress of winter to bring forth their delightful spring beauty. Human beings need trials to become who we are meant to become.

Spring has officially sprung

When the hyacinths peek their fragrant heads up through the tangle of winter grasses, I know that spring has officially sprung. The nights may still be chilly, but the garden knows that spring is here. On hills and glens not far away, I spot almond blossoms coming forth on trees left to fend for themselves. Yes, spring has arrived. 

Another arrival has occurred. A pale pink camellia has been adopted into the garden. She has lived her life in a pot for the last decade and a half. My mom couldn't keep her so it was time for this "pink lady" to have her roots put into the earth here among others that have now become her sisters. Already she is happy. Soon she will be as tall as the "old lady" on her right and the "showoff" on her left.

The "showoff" has been dazzling us with quite a show. Thanks to Hubby's expertise in installing windows, we can now enjoy every moment of this brilliant camellia's performance even on the rainiest of days. 

The bees are busy on the north side of the house where all the camellias live. The saucer-sized blooms have the bees in quite a tizzy trying to decide which bloom to explore next with their chubby pollen-laden legs. As I meander down the shady path, I hear their happy buzzing and it makes my heart sing.

Spring has officially sprung.

Lessons from the hyacinth

Our warmer-than-normal February temps have prompted a profusion of spring blooms to burst forth from the garden. The pink hyacinths are earlier than their purple cousins so they get to share the stage next to the little sunny faces of the jonquils.

I am always struck by the life lessons I learn from the garden.

After photographing the hyacinths, I started the post-processing in my studio and noticed there were details that the camera had captured which hadn't been evident to my naked eye. The cluster of the hyacinth with its lines and forms often distracts me from seeing the subtler and smaller details.

I was struck by the beauty of each flower within the cluster--how it looks like a watercolor brush has streaked the pink color down the center of each petal. I was struck that in the center of each blossom were intricate details. And then I noticed the light dusting of hyacinth pollen on the petals.

I have to ask... if I missed so much detail in this simple flower (and I was really looking) how much detail and beauty gets missed in the world around me throughout the course of a day... a month... a year?

I don't want to miss beauty like that.

The air is sweet with rain-kissed hyacinths and lilacs

"We would do well to slow down a little, proceed at the optimum speed for our circumstances, focus on the significant, lift up our eyes, and truly see the things that matter most."

Dieter F. Uchtdorf

Grape Hyacinth

Hidden in a thicket under the oleander bush grow spring's sapphires.

A surprise on the first day of Spring

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As if to herald the first official day of spring, the first Hungarian Bread Seed Poppy bloomed this morning!

I planted these from seed back in the autumn (along with parsley, lettuces, scallions, snap peas, and other winter veggies) in the raised planter bed I relocated to the front garden. The lettuce has all been harvested and so have the scallions. The Italian flat leaf parsley called "Gigante" is living up to its name on one end of the bed.

And up against parsley, these poppies have been growing, and growing, and GROWING! The plants are huge! But there haven't been any signs of buds all winter (even though most Oriental and Iceland poppies are a winter flower around here). I was very anxious to see what the poppy would look like because I've never grown these before. I had no idea there would be such a rich purple in the center of this large poppy blossom.

And so, instead of being the winter-bloomer I had planned, the Hungarian Bread Seed Poppy has joined the rest of the lovely blooms in the Rosehaven Cottage gardens to welcome the first day of spring!

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Not quite "red"...

Used the Photoshop action Retro Love by pseudonymfreak

I bought these hyacinth bulbs years ago because the label said they were "red". Well, they're more of a deep magenta. Pretty, but not red.

Does anyone know of a truly "red" hyacinth? I'm curious if they actually exist or if we gardeners simply wish them to be so.

In the pink

I'm a huge fan of the color pink. That's why my other blog Dusting in Pearls is pink. That's why the logo for Rosehaven Cottage Inc. is pink. That's why my studio is slowly but surely getting decorated in pink. That's also why Hubby brought home a bouquet of pink roses for me on Valentine's Day (above).

Interestingly, I don't necessarily go ga-ga over every shade of pink. The shade of pink that will stop me dead in my tracks is the soft pink of ballet slippers (you know, the ones that little girls wear to ballet class). I call it "ballet slipper pink". And when I see it, I am drawn to it. Just ask Hubby what happens when we're in a store and I see something in that shade of pink. It could be a pile of garbage, but if it's "ballet slipper pink" garbage, I'll want it.


I really love the blossoms of spring because of their array of soft pinks. The ornamental plum tree at the end of the street is in bloom right now. I was hoping we'd get a break in the rain before the blossoms fell off so I could take some shots. I got my wish today. A beautiful sunny day with blue skies and white puffy clouds was just the ticket for taking shots of the ornamental plum in all its glory.


Of course I have pink hyacinths in my front garden. Of course! When I went out to take shots of them this afternoon, they were laying down because the blossoms had caught so much rainwater that it was weighing them down. I shook the majority of the rainwater out to perk them up and then took some shots.

Yes, indeed, I am swimming in pink right now. I'm even working on pink projects. I'm surprised that I haven't grown weary of it. In fact, just the opposite has happened. I look for pink everywhere now.

Just in case any of you would like to get "in the pink" too, I've created a wallpaper/desktop that is available for anyone to download for free. Just click on the image below and it will take you to the download site where there are download instructions. Have fun and enjoy being "in the pink"!

Having a blue spring day... and why

With blue skies and some blue flowers blooming around Rosehaven Cottage, yesterday and today are "blue" in the good sense of the word. I've been out weeding around the rosebushes where the bulbs are sprouting and blooming at their feet. The heady fragrance of the first hyacinths are intoxicating. And, for me, the blue color is even more intoxicating...

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I didn't do any color correction to the above image... that's the brilliant blue that my eyes see. Isn't it amazing? I have pink, "red", and white hyacinths too, but none of them take my breath away like the blue ones.

Also to my delight, the plum tree is blooming!

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The blooming of the plum tree heralds my favorite part of spring. I live and garden in the San Francisco Bay Area in California. Ornamental pear and almond blossoms arrive first in late January or early February. The rest (like the plum) start coming around now. The neighbor's nectarine and peach are in bloom right now too.

Our micro-climate is much like the south of France or Tuscany--a Mediterranean climate with just about all our rainfall in the winter months, leaving us with hot and dry summers. So right now, our hills are green (they'll be golden in summer), and spring has begun.

I know I reference "micro-climates" a lot when I'm trying to describe our climate. I've decided to finally show you how complex this whole thing really is for gardeners in our neck of the woods. Sunset magazine (also the publisher of Sunset Western Garden Book) has divided the entire U.S. into zones (click here to see them online).

The state of California is long, taking up a large portion of the United States' western coastline along the Pacific Ocean. It has bands of hills and mountain ranges running north to south that start at the western coast and move eastward interrupted only by a large flat plain called the Central Valley (a former ancient inland sea with wonderful loamy soil where much of the U.S. crop production occurs).

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All of this interesting topography means that just because someone says they live in California doesn't mean that they'll be basking in mild sunny temps all winter long (that's more often the case in coastal Southern California). Case in point, California has high elevations that get large amounts of snow-pack in the winter which provide the rest of the state with water throughout the summer--and also provide a lovely winter playground for skiers, snowboarders, and other winter sports enthusiasts.

Almost in the middle of the California coastline is an inlet that the Golden Gate bridge spans which leads to a large inland bay--San Francisco Bay. This bay stretches north to south spanning an aerial distance of over 50 miles. The towns and cities surrounding this bay make up the greater San Francisco Bay Area that covers an almost circular area over 50 miles wide.

The Bay Area is informally divided into regions called the "Peninsula", the "North Bay", the "South Bay", and the "East Bay", so when we watch the weather forecast on the news we listen for our "region's" forecast because the weather can be dramatically different from one part of the Bay Area to another.

Sunset took things a step further and divided the San Francisco Bay Area into zones. Although helpful, the zones still aren't representative of the hundreds of micro-climates that exist within each zone. But knowing one's zone is at least a good start when one begins gardening here.

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Although the zone map says that we're supposed to be zone 17, we really aren't. Our adjacent zones are 14 and 15 but those aren't quite accurate either. So we have to take the definitions of all three zones and kind of morph them together through experience. Sunset's definitions are as follows with what is true for our climate highlighted in green and what is false for our micro-climate highlighted in red:

ZONE 17. Oceanside Northern and Central California and Southernmost Oregon
Growing season: late Feb. to early Dec. Coolness and fog are hallmarks; summer highs seldom top 75 degrees F/24 degrees C, while winter lows run from 36 degrees to 23 degrees F/2 degrees to -5 degrees C. Heat-loving plants disappoint or dwindle here.

ZONE 14. Inland Northern and Central California with Some Ocean Influence
Growing season: early Mar. to mid-Nov., with rain coming in the remaining months. Periodic intrusions of marine air temper summer heat and winter cold (lows run from 26 degrees to 16 degrees F/-3 degrees to -9 degrees C). Mediterranean-climate plants are at home here.

ZONE 15. Northern and Central California's Chilly-winter Coast-influenced Areas
Growing season: Mar. to Dec. Rain comes from fall through winter. Typical winter lows range from 28 degrees to 21 degrees F/-2 degrees to -6 degrees C. Maritime air influences the zone much of the time, giving it cooler, moister summers than Zone 14.

See how hard it is to get your head around it???

That's why I gauge things more by what I see going on in nature. When I see the first almond trees in bloom, that's a sign that spring is on its way and our plum tree will be in bloom soon. When I hear the twitters and tweets of birds (particularly the high-pitched Rufous hummingbird), I know that birds are migrating through from the south to the north. And when the hyacinths peek their heads out of the soil, I know it's time to trim up the rosebushes for the coming season.

Our first crocus blooming in among the green foliage of the California poppies

A Golden Afternoon

In yesterday's post I mentioned the song Golden Afternoon from my favorite Disney animated classic Alice in Wonderland. Today, as I knelt down out in the front garden in short shirt sleeves on a 68°F (20°C) "golden afternoon" to plant a flat of lovely delicate Apricot Antique shade violas, the song kept playing in my head over and over again. Let me share the lyrics with you.

Golden Afternoon
Music: Sammy Fain
Lyrics: Bob Hilliard
Performed by: Kathryn Beaumont [Alice], Chorus [Flowers]

Little bread-and-butterflies kiss the tulips,
And the sun is like a toy balloon.
There are get up in the morning glories,
In the golden afternoon.

There are dizzy daffodils on the hillside,
Strings of violets are all in tune,
Tiger lilies love the dandy lions,
In the golden afternoon,
The golden afternoon.

There are dog and caterpillars and a copper centipede,
Where the lazy daisies love the very peaceful life they lead...

You can learn a lot of things from the flowers,
For especially in the month of June.
There's a wealth of happiness and romance,
All in the golden afternoon. ...
All in the golden afternoon,
The golden afternoon...


It was definitely a "golden afternoon" with "a wealth of happiness and romance"--just perfect for the week of Valentine's Day.

The little Apricot Antique shade violas had an air of romance about them--the old Victorian kind of romance. Kissed with the dusty light purple of the gemstone of February, the amethyst, the little violas now fill a curving bed in the front garden in front of leafless rosebushes waiting for this year's leaves to grow. Their tiny little faces cupped water droplets after I watered them with garden hose. Like a little jewel in the center of each blossom, the water droplets added a particularly whimsical touch to the lovely blooms.

To my surprise, I discovered that the blue anemone has bloomed again with two perfect blue blooms! Usually it blooms around Christmas (it's a winter flower in our zone) and then it's done. I was so pleasantly surprised to discover that it's going to give me more of its beautiful "blue-ness" to enjoy. In case, you didn't know... I LOVE blue flowers and purple toned flowers. There is something magical about that hue in the garden amidst so much yellow, pink, orange and red. Blue doesn't seem to "belong" in the garden, so that's why I always seem to want to see it there.

The two anemone blooms are adding color to complement the little hyacinth that comes up in the same bed that is occupied by oregano 3/4 of the year. The oregano dies back every winter around the end of November. I wait until the end of January or the first part of February, and then I remove all the dead oregano twigs so the hyacinths have room to come up. I'm so pleased that the anemone have stuck around to join them. I think I've even got some volunteers from last year's Sorbet Mix violas that I planted to fill in the gaps. That would be a wonderful welcome addition too.

Another blue flower that's a favorite for me is the blue hyacinth. My hyacinths are early this year, but I don't mind. It's wonderful to have them here for Valentine's Day because they are a particularly romantic flower to both Hubby and me. We honeymooned in Victoria, British Columbia in late March back in 1998. Part of our visit included a tour of the famous Butchart Gardens. We found many of the beds to be chock full of hyacinths of every color you could imagine! The scent was absolutely heavenly as we strolled by each bed. We returned to Victoria for our 5 year anniversary and experienced that same wonderful display for our eyes as well as our noses. Now everytime the hyacinths come up in our front garden and we catch a whiff of their perfume, we fondly remember our honeymoon and all the wonderful romantic reasons why we fell in love and are still in love. Now you know why the hyacinth is a romantic flower for us.

And of course how could it possibly be a truly "golden afternoon" without my faithful garden companion Tom Tom joining me as I dig in the dirt. It couldn't be. That's why he came out and went on a "toot" while I worked in the garden. When it's this wonderful of a day it is a real chore getting him to come back inside. He doesn't want his "toot" to end--EVER! But I finally managed to catch him and get him back in the house--for which he received a little pile of Whisker Lickin's. Good boy, Tom Tom.